John Beaumont

1583-1627 / England

An Act Of Hope

Sweet hope is soueraigne comfort of our life,
Our ioy in sorrow and our peace in strife,
The dame of beggers, and the queene of kings :
Can those delight in height of prosperous things
Without expecting still to keepe them sure ?
Can those the weight of heauy wants endure,
Vnlesse perswasion instant paine allay,
Eeseruing spirit for a better day ?
Our God, who planted in his creatures' brest
This stop on which the wheeles of passion rest,
Hath rayscl by beames of his abundant grace
This strong affection to a higher place.
It is the second vertue which attends
That soule whose motion to his sight ascends.
Rest here, my mind ; thou shalt no longer stay
To gaze vpon these houses made of clay:
Thou shalt not stoope to honours, or to lands,
Nor golden halles, where sliding fortune stands.
If no false colours draw thy steps amisse,
Thou hast a palace of eternall blisse ;
A paradise from care and feare exempt,
And obiect worthy of the best attempt.
Who would not for so rich a country fight ?
Who would not runne that sees a gaole so bright?
O thou who art our Author and our end,
On whose large mercy chaines of hope depend,
Lift me to thee by thy propitious hand;
For lower I can find no place to stand.
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